


Presidium 14: Ficlets and Drabbles

by BronzeAgeLove



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Banter, C-Sec, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 13:19:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16198328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BronzeAgeLove/pseuds/BronzeAgeLove
Summary: Since my 'Drabbles' section was getting exceedingly more difficult to manage, I decided to split them up by OC groups and repost them here for easier reading- SOME OF THESE HAVE BEEN PUBLISHED BEFORE so please bear with me until I can catch up and post the new ones :)So here's what my Presidium 14 C-Sec Crew has been up to since the events described in the'Citadel Elevator Series'... because every officer needs some down-time after a long shift, and what better thing than to fill said down-time with evenings at the bar and random off-duty shenanigans?





	1. Right where you belong

**Author's Note:**

> **The Mass Effect Universe belongs to BioWare. OCs are my own**
> 
> Please feel free to contact me on bronzeagelove.tumblr.com, I love meeting new people and yapping about my babies ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G
> 
> A short for #friendship february on Tumblr.

“Miura, your turn!”

“No!”

 

It had been a long day for C-Sec. A robbery at the embassies kept the presidium stations on high alert until detectives managed to solve the case, and when the regular patrol officers and riot squad heavies had finally been allowed to go home, they were all so strung up they had somehow, in unison, decided to wind down with some booze and a few party games. They might have been 'only' squadmates, but since his arrival on the Citadel, Quintus Adessar had adopted them as his new family. They were a good bunch, albeit a bit rowdy at times, but he knew he could trust them with his life, no matter that they disagreed or fought sometimes.

Why they chose Adessar's well-worn apartment for their impromptu party was a mystery to him, and even more why surly Chiho Miura decided to join them. She wasn't a social drinker and mostly kept to herself. On the run-ins Adessar had with her outside of their shifts, it had been either to get on each other’s nerves or to have sex (most often a mixture of both), an unlikely combination that for some reason worked remarkably well.

Miura sat on his turian couch that was much too big for her, looking like a little child while her feet dangled in mid-air. The pout on her face didn't make the impression any better. In front of her, on a table littered with half-eaten snacks for four different species, stood a nearly untouched bottle of poison green alcopop.

“Come on, Miura! Everybody else did the Truth or Dare. I told you the embarrassing run-in with Chellick's sister at the bar, and Giuliani stood on the balcony naked yelling 'I love hanar porn'. I gave you a way easier question!“

“T'Rani didn’t have to!“

“Yes, everyone except for T'Rani...“

...they all craned their necks to check if the asari was doing ok, but she was still snoring, out like a light behind the couch, clutching a half-empty bottle of Elasa to her chest as if it was a plush animal, a very content smile blooming on her cornflower blue features.

“She's doing great. Don't change the subject! Miura, your turn, Truth.“

“No!“

After a few minutes of back-and-forth bickering, their other squadmates gave a sigh, and got up, one after the other, a little unsteadily as was to be expected after their off-duty drinking.

“Well guys it's getting late. We're heading home, got shift tomorrow. Don't be at each other's throat, will ya?“

Adessar saw the four off before looking back into the living room over his shoulder, the aftermath of their party well visible in an array of empty bottles and snack crumbs littering the table. Tomorrow was his free day, so the clean-up could wait until the next morning.

Miura still sat on the couch with her legs dangling and arms crossed, her usual surly look on her face.

“You should have asked me a different question”, she finally said. “That one... I don't want to talk about.“

Adessar sat down near her but with enough distance as not to accidentally be touching her. He didn't know if she was going to be ok with him sitting closer today. They'd slept together twice already, but the circumstances had been different, and now was definitely not the right moment.

He sighed, slight worry showing through in his subvocals as he spoke up.

“Why not? 'Tell me a funny story from your childhood' is no big thing, and I'd like to get to know you better.“

A smirk, not a very happy one, flashed over her features. She tucked her legs under and composed herself before looking at him with a soft yet serious expression that was a far cry from her usual sullen mood. Her voice was flat when she spoke, as if she was afraid of putting too much emotion into her speech.

“Tell me, Quintus. What did you want to hear. That I was born on a freighter? Where I was nothing but a pair of arms to carry stuff? I was the youngest and scrawniest of five, a dreamer, totally out of place. There was no time for 'happy'. I had no friends. I had no chance.“

Underlined by T'Rani's soft snores, Miura sighed and leant forward to grab her bottle. She took a long swig before looking back at him, wiping her lips dry with the back of one hand. When she spoke up, she sounded bitter, not angry or dismissive as usual. It was that very peculiar tang of regret, the unsettling timbre creeping onto a voice when one had to recall unpleasant memories.

“Freighters are the most depressing thing, I tell you. No new faces, lousy extranet connection. No sky! All I wanted was to see the sky. Did you know I was always fascinated by police movies? I loved those cheesy old Earth ones, of brash cops with a big mouth!“

Adessar gave a small shrug, indicating her to continue. She had never talked this openly to him, or to anyone, as far as he could remember, and he cherished this sudden change in her, hoping it was a sign she was finally trusting him enough to confide in him.

A sad little smile ghosted around the corners of her mouth before she continued.

“All the 'happy' I got as a child was from those movies. Yet every time I'd steal off to watch heroic detectives solve a murder, envisioning myself in their place, someone would come yelling at me to be productive. 'I want to join the police' I once told them. And all my dad, my fuckin' dad!! , said, with a mean chuckle, was 'stop daydreaming, little runt, you'll never make it. You're destined to stay with us'. I was ten, minimally educated, and had never set foot on a planet. I was nothing. But it was that moment when I decided I'd show them all.”

Adessar's mandibles gave a concerned twitch. Before his inner eye, he imagined her, a small girl on an even smaller freighter, whose only happy memories came from old movies, watched in secret on her omni-tool, and he felt bad for asking her the question in the first place, without considering the possibility of a sad past.

Miura looked up at him, her dark eyes still weary, but to Adessar's relief, some of her usual determination had creeped back into her posture.

“In the end, I did show them”, she said, lightly nodding her head as if to reassure herself, “but now that I reached my goal and got into C-Sec, I have no ambition anymore. All I got left is my anger. I don't really know where I belong.“

Her head drooped anew while she shifted position, tightly hugging her knees to her chest with a heartfelt sigh.

A bit unsure on how to calm her down after this confession, Adessar reached over, gently dragging one taloned hand through her messy black hair, the pads of his fingers trailing over her scalp in what he hoped was a soothing gesture for humans. Her hair was thick, a little wiry in the way it stuck up from her head in odd angles, and fascinated him in more ways than he'd imagined. And suddenly, he knew what to say.

“You belong right here“, he answered softly, “here in my lousy apartment, with a hungover asari snoring at your feet. Right here with your squad. We're your friends, we'll always have your back. We can even be your surrogate family, if you wish.“

When she didn't make any effort to answer, her face still buried behind her knees, Adessar continued, filling the silence.

“I'm really sorry your family were such a disappointment. But hey look, you did it! The greatest achievement of all. You found your place in the Riot Squad, you proved everybody wrong. I mean, look at me. I was hailed a tech prodigy... before the Hierarchy shunted me over to C-Sec like an unwanted second-hand present.“

His remark drew a soft giggle from her, and the fact he was able to cheer her up when she was feeling down filled him with pride.

“Quintus, let's be honest here: Did you try to seduce the local primarch's wife?“

“Uhm, something like that… It's a story for another night.“

“You're an idiot.“

“I know. But you like it.“

And for the first time since he knew her, surly Chiho Miura leant against him with a chuckle, of her own volition, snuggling up to his carapace as well as she could, melting against the curve of his chest with a quite complacent sigh. Not because she wanted to punch him, and not because she wanted to sleep with him. Simply to be there and share each other's company.

They sat in silence for quite some time, listening to soft asari snores from underneath the couch, content to live in this moment together. Nothing more and nothing less.

“You know, I'd have never thought I'd say that, but thank you. You're a good friend”, she admitted in the end, looking up at him with the most gentle expression he'd ever seen on her up to now.

“The best.“

“...and you're a pretentious asshole. But it's ok. Wanna order some fast food and then call it a night?“

Adessar nodded while he hugged her to his chest, a purr rumbling through him. Friends. He'd never thought she'd say that about him, and the feeling that started crawling up into his throat was a little unsettling, yet the best he'd felt in a long time. It went beyond the urge to tease, beyond the physical attraction that had drawn him to her in the first place. He looked down at the small human snuggled up to his side, and felt pride and contentment at knowing her.

“Make yourself at home”, he answered at last, not even trying to conceal the tenderness resonating in his subvocals, “you're right where you belong.”


	2. The Sky At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snippet from Miura's past
> 
> Rated G

It was without a doubt the best day in a long, long time.

Waiting for her initial fitting-out, cadet Chiho Miura stood in C-Sec HQ's armoury, clutching an invite to her chest. It had taken a lot of perseverance to get where she was. She'd tell herself it was natural to feel impatient, always in fear, at the back of her head, that a new message could flash up on her omni-tool at any second, saying _it was all a mistake_ and that she wasn't going to be admitted into C-Sec after all… but it didn't come.

Instead, she waited, patiently, as the quartermaster, a thin-lipped asari, started measuring her from head to toe before giving a frustrated sigh and heading to the warehouse to retrieve the individual armour pieces. After basic training, there would be a new set waiting, manufactured to her measurements, but for the moment, this one would have to suffice, even if Miura already knew it was going to be too loose for her.

There was a full-length mirror affixed to the opposite wall. While waiting, Miura looked at her own scrawny body, dressed in nothing but a thin, charcoal-grey undersuit, eyeing herself with unbroken frustration. She had been trying to bulk up the last two years, but all it did was make her more wiry, and she recognized that perpetual look of refusal and anger in her eyes, engrained into her so deeply through all those years of feeling left alone.

Yet with every piece of battered armour that was fitted on her, with every piece clicking into place, she felt a part of her old self vanish.

 

Boots.

_The way her father yelled at her when he found her again, hidden somewhere in an air shaft, nose up against her omni-tool set on mute, watching old police movies in longing instead of helping with the cargo…_

 

Shin guards.

_How her brothers would make fun of her for being so small and afraid, for crying when she was exhausted after a long day of hauling produce to orbital stations…_

 

Thigh guards.

_The realization, at age ten, that she was doomed to stay a spacer, that she'd never get to see the open sky._

 

It was then when she stopped crying, instead started nurturing the growing anger inside, making it her new source of strength, a bitter, hard ball in her chest, burning cold with a fire fuelled by the desire to escape her monotone destiny. It became the part of her she didn’t know then was going to be her trademark for years to come, impossible to shake off. 

Miura held her own gaze in the mirror while the quartermaster busied herself around her, connecting servos, locking latches, building the suit of armour up from bottom to top, and there it was. She could see it coming, the transformation. She was far away from where she started, somewhere in the outskirts of human-controlled space, a scared, perpetually exhausted little girl. This was her new life now. She had worked hard for it, had not abandoned her dream of becoming a police officer, of doing something _that mattered._

 

Gauntlets.

_The horrible day her omni-tool was taken from her, to punish her for all her daydreaming, to get that stupid idea out of her head…_

 

Pauldrons.

_'Face it, runt, this is your life. Stop that C-Sec nonsense, the council never did anything for us, we're vermin to them!'_

 

Breastplate.

_The look in her father's eyes, three years ago, when she finally yelled all her frustration at him, that she was going to leave, that she was going to the Citadel, into Riot Squad, the best of the best, she could do it, whether he approved or not. Her verbal outbreak had left her with a bruise to her cheek that hurt for days…_

 

Helmet.

_Those laughs behind her back, by everyone on the crew, but especially her family, the sneers when she walked off the ship, without even a glance back, at some godforsaken spaceport. 'Look at our little police girl', 'Don't come crawling back when you fail'... It hurt so much._

 

Miura looked at her reflection in the mirror, safe and strong in her heavy blue and black riot gear, and let her old self go, with a sigh that echoed both relief and loss.

"Okay, give it a walk now, then let me know how it feels", the asari said with a pat to a battered pauldron when she was done, tearing Miura from her pondering, before waving her off into the bright Presidium morning, helmet clipped to her hip.

And Chiho Miura stepped out of C-Sec HQ, listening to the city's bustle, underlined by a light hum from the servos while she put one sturdy boot in front of the other, feeling more grounded, more at home in this suit of armour than she'd ever been. She'd come a long way, but finally, all the despair, all the bitter disappointment, was behind her. She squinted, looking up at the clouds drifting by overhead in a sea of light blue. And even though she knew the sky on the Presidium was nothing but a fake, just a projection, Miura allowed herself a few tears.

 

_The sky, at last._


	3. Night Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a Tumblr Drabble Challenge List  
> No. 78: "Don't argue. Just do it!"
> 
> Rated G
> 
> ...a genuine 100 word drabble, yeah ;)

C-Sec station 14, Citadel Presidium, night cycle.

The hallways were mostly dark, except for the night desk at the station’s entrance.

At the back of the hallway, towards the elevators going to the rooftop parking lot, three shadowy figures were barely visible along the wall. A flash of showy clubbing clothes, a whiff of alcohol, the sound of an aerosol can. A female voice, tinged with annoyance, rang out, then the orange shine of an omni-tool flared up.

“Adessar…. are you sure writing 'your sister is sweet' on Chellick’s office door is a good idea..?”

“Don’t argue. Just do it!”


	4. Hangover (part 1-3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for language and imagery
> 
> Requested from a Tumblr Drabble Prompt List.  
> Part 1, Prompt 76: "Please put your penis away"  
> Part 2 written for sexy-salmon.tumblr.com  
> Part 3, Prompt 28: "How drunk was I?"

She should have never agreed to go to this party, because it was rapidly getting out of hand after Giuliani had brought along all that cheap booze from the lower wards. Local brew? Never trust a smiling salarian…. She knew very well why she never drank at social gatherings.

Screaming at him in frustration, Chiho Miura was hanging off her quasi-boyfriend’s arm while he was trying to yank down his pants in the middle of the living room, surrounded by inebriate, off-duty C-Sec officers. Luckily, turian anatomy with all its spurs and angles plus the complicated nature of their clothes didn’t facilitate his endeavour.

“Gods, Quintus you idiot, stop! Just because someone yells ‘Dicks out for Blasto!’ you don’t have to! You’re so drunk you’ll never get it out of your sheath. It’s pathetic. Have some dignity!”

“No. ‘s impo’tant!”

Sleazy laughter behind them, the sound of someone climbing unsteadily onto the table, the rustle of cargo pants sliding down hairy Italian legs. More cheers, accompanied by a few horrified squeals, erupted.

Chiho groaned. Very well, here went her cozy evening. She gave Quintus a shove, making him topple over with a confused chirp (a sound way too cute for a grown creature his size, she decided sourly), before turning around, puffing her small frame up as well as she could. She braced herself...

...Just as she’d imagined. Floppy and kinda greyish-pink. Not the most uplifting sight.

To hell with male party games!

“Giuliani, please put your penis away. It’s really not something to be proud of”, she snarled at her squadmate, voice quivering with barely controlled anger.

Her remark was enough to make Giuliani sober up a bit. A frown flashed over his face, followed by a glimmer of realization of what she said, before he lost his balance and crashed down in a sea of caterwauling.

“Come on Quintus, let’s go home!”, Chiho called out over her shoulder through the din. Giuliani’s less than inspiring show was definitely not the last thing she wanted to remember about tonight… and she had better things to do. Dragging the limp, feebly protesting turian after her, she set out into the lively streets.

* * *

“Christ, stop the snoring!”

For sure, it wasn’t the nicest way to wake up halfway between drunk and hungover with a small, bare human foot squashing down on his mandible, those far too numerous stubby toes pressed against his plates.

“Wh’tt..?” Quintus Adessar managed to mumble in response while struggling out of the mass of blankets he’d wrapped himself during the night. Had he known what a ‘Burrito’ was, he could have compared his way of sleeping to one. Adessar groaned. His tongue felt like a foreign object against his teeth, dry and puffy.

“You snore, man! Had to check you were still alive. And you’re hogging all the blankies! No wonder you only get one-night-stands, they all run off when they are subjected to your horrible sleeping habits.”

A few of Adessar’s fried neurons gave a frizzle. Miura. That was the proprietor of the angry voice. Chiho Miura. Tiny, perpetually disgruntled human. Girlfriend, somehow..?

Hmm.

Struggling to get out of his self-imposed blanket straightjacket, Adessar opened one crusty eye and peered up along the foot still planted firmly on his cheek. A wiry leg. Dark, fuzzy skin. Indeed Miura. Farther up, the rest of her body was obscured by an oversized turian shirt that made her look like a walking tent.

“Sp’rits...”

He groaned again. The evening started coming back to him, hesitantly. Giuliani and that cheap booze tasting like paint thinner. Too many shots. Damn. Someone yelling “Dicks out for Blasto!”... Double damn! The rest was a haze.

Miura gave a sigh. The pressure was taken from Adessar’s face as she withdrew her foot before folding her legs under and sitting down near him. She had read the confusion in his face, apparently.

“You owe me one, Quintus”, she said in a defiant way. “Thank me later. Giuliani dangled his dick around like an idiot, but I made sure we left before those two salarian techs started showing off their cloacae.”

“Wh’tt happen’d?!”

This was all a mess. Adessar still had difficulties controlling his tongue. Same with his mandibles. They kinda… kept flapping against his jaw. Unnerving.

...did he invite Miura over? Why was she wearing one of his workout shirts? And most important: What happened at that party?

She prodded his unplated side to get his attention, her jaw locked.

“Eyes here. I know what’s going through your head. You hogged all the blankies, I got the biggest shirt I could find as a substitute. And it took me ages to get you out of those skin-tight pants of yours, you managed to get hot sauce all over yourself, just so you know!”

One of her hands ghosted along the length of his fringe, in a surprisingly soft gesture. Adessar, wallowing in hungover self-pity, closed his eyes with a sigh, too tired to struggle against her caresses.

“Now that you’re awake, I need to have a word with you, Mister Ladykiller Adessar. What were you thinking? You can’t just show your junk to anyone when you’re wasted. You got a reputation to uphold, man!”

She rolled her eyes again, then balled her hand into a fist and hit his arm. For such a small being, she packed quite the punch.

“You’re an asshole but I swear to the gods I don’t want you to be remembered as ‘the one who couldn’t get his dick out’. I hate these displays of male stupidity, and I could have let you humiliate yourself. You’re welcome.”

“Self-int’rested much?” Adessar managed to utter, a brilliantly witty remark given the circumstances.

She smirked, in a predatory fashion that Adessar didn’t know if he should get worried or excited about. Maybe both.

“Oooh yes. You owe me big time, boy. Today, I’ll make you pay again and again… and again. We’ll start before breakfast.”

Oh damn.

* * *

 

Through the shutters, he caught a glimpse of neon from the ward outside. His head throbbed. Who was he? Where was he exactly? It did feel like home... He also wasn’t wearing any clothes, as he noticed after a quick feel-down, checking if all limbs were still attached. But at least he was himself, Quintus Adessar, and he was at home.

_Oh well._

An unexpected sound made him listen up. Someone was rummaging through the closet in the kitchenette, the artificial light coming through the door left ajar way too bright for Adessar’s sensitive eyes. Shielding his brow with a groan, swaying a little, Adessar padded over towards the foreign sound.

Someone was standing on a chair, on tiptoes, trying to reach the upper cabinets. Miura, Adessar recognized. Not the worst person to wake up to, he had to admit to himself.

“Spiced tea?”, she asked without looking back at him when she heard him approach. She was still wearing one of his shirts, with its way too wide neck- and armholes, glimpses of lacy underwear flashing pink underneath the black.

“Thanks.”

In between the languidness and dehydration, a feeling of comfort flashed up somewhere in Adessar’s chest. There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask her. Why she was here, taking care of him. _Why she was wearing that underwear_. And what happened last night.

But before he could open his mouth, his omni-tool pinged. Without much thinking, Adessar powered it up, only to be greeted by two pictures of himself from last night. One showed him trying to take off his pants, while Miura hung from his arm with unbridled fury on her face, screaming at him. The other's foreground was more perplexing until Adessar remembered the human anatomy lessons during xenostudies. _Ew_. Covertly, he thanked the spirits turians had a sheath.

 _HEYO BRO! WE MISSED YOUR DICK AT THE PARTY LAST NIGHT! DON’T GET YOURSELF PUSSY-WHIPPED!_ the caption said.

Giuliani. _Oh damn._ Adessar stared at the pictures in disbelief. He didn’t remember any of this.

“Chiho, tell me…. How drunk was I?” he asked Miura over his shoulder. She sauntered over to him, a steaming bowl of spiced tea in one hand, a glass of water in the other, and gave the pictures a quick glance.

“Well, on from a certain point all you did was talk gibberish about Blasto needing your dick’s support. The correct expression is ‘piss drunk’, I believe”, she started while she handed him the tea, before examining the photos more closely. “Oh my that is unflattering. You look horrible, Quintus. Your mandibles are all over the place. Where did the ‘I’m hotter than you’ womanizer go?”

His headache throbbing harder than before, Adessar groaned, thinking about what the rest of the precinct was going to think of him tomorrow. Then he tentatively lapped at his tea. It was strong and spicy, the way he loved it. For someone whose biology wasn’t dextro-based, Miura had gotten the preparation just right. The hot liquid slowly spreading through his system, Adessar started feeling better.

”He’s on a long vacation”, he mumbled into his tea. “Hope you don’t mind the measly replacement.”

She gave him a nudge with a pointy elbow, the left corner of her mouth twitching.

“Well, let him know I miss yelling insults at him. But I can live with the replacement for a few more days.”

 


	5. Hello from C-Sec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T
> 
> Featuring the whole Presidium 14 Squad!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in order to celebrate my first milestone which was 100 followers on tumblr (bronzeagelove.tumblr.com). Wow ^^

The omni-tool’s recording feature powered up, showing an austere room, the C-Sec logo etched into the wall.

“How does this thing work?“ somebody asked.

“Wait, I’m gonna press the little arrow on the left!“

A red dot started blinking. The picture wobbled.

“Is it recording yet?“

“Yes! Get in position!“

The image steadied, then zoomed in on a slim young turian with silvery plates and white colony markings down his chin, sitting at the conference table. He looked vaguely bored at first but went into full prince charming mode when he felt the camera on himself.

“Oh.“ He blinked, then gave a nod, all proper C-Sec officer. “Hey everyone! This is Presidium Station 14 speaking. Our pal Bronzie-“

“Sssh don‘t call your supervisor by her nickname! Have some manners!“

A flanged groan. A mandible twitched.

“Ok ok. Our _boss_ BronzeAgeLove asked us to introduce ourselves quickly since she’s got quite a few more followers lately and we pop up on this blog at regular intervals. Nice to meet you all! My name is Quintus Adessar, I‘m the best tech in the station, and these are my squadmates“, he gestured to a big smiling asari to his right and a tiny, very grumpy looking dark-skinned human to his left, “Alena T‘Rani and Chiho Miura. Behind his omni-tool recording this whole mess is Giuliani-“

A hand waved in front of the lens, and a muffled voice with a distinct Italian accent rang up.

“ _Ciao ragazzi_ , I‘m Francesco Giuliani and got sentenced to videotape this sad excuse for a vid! Go on, Letch.“

The turian nodded.

“Ok. A little bit about ourselves. I’m the precinct’s resident... what was the word?“

“Casanova“, Giuliani prompted.

“...Casanova. Right. I like partying, and getting, uhm, intimately acquainted with various new people, if you catch my drift.“

Pride vibrated in his subvocals while Miura rolled her eyes at his statement. Adessar looked at her, shrugged, then turned back to the camera.

“T‘Rani here and Miura are members of our riot squad. T’Rani likes partying with me. Befitting her age, she should have started making little asari babies by now but she won‘t have any of that. Good on you, Blue! Now to my left, you will notice Miura’s surly face and defensive posture. She is small and looks harmless, but don’t be fooled. She harnesses the powers of anger and spite and unleashes it onto poor innocent protesting citizens during riot control. If she wants, she can be very, uhm, _loveable_ too. There was this one time we got trapped in a broken-down elevator together-“

Miura‘s head whipped around with a snarl, her face scrunched up in fury.

“ _You_ hacked that elevator, asshole!“ she yelled at Adessar before launching herself at him, dragging him to the ground with her. Shouts and growls rang up from under the table while T‘Rani tried looking noncommitted.

The camera shook.

“ _Porca miseria_! There we go again...“ Giuliani said.

The recording blacked out, then came back. This time, T‘Rani was sitting in the middle, restraining the two brawlers, hands on the respective shoulders of her squadmates. Miura kept herself puffed up in pride, while Adessar sported a ripped tunic and a smug look around his mandibles.

„I‘m very sorry“, the big asari said, voice straining to conceal her annoyance, “about this inconvenience. I prefer to end this accident of an introduction now. It was nice meeting you all. On behalf of our boss, we hope you have a good time here.“

She smiled, a little forced, while Adessar and Miura were shooting each other unmistakably smoldering looks.

“Are we finished?” Giuliani asked from behind his omni-tool.

T’Rani nodded. “I don’t think we could make a worse first impression on the new followers so yes, this is the end. And you two“, she turned to Miura, then to Adessar, hitting the back of his head with her hand, “either go for a round of sparring, or get a room.“

“I suggest first one, then the other“, Adessar piped up while Miura seethed, before she yelled at him again.

“Gods, I swear one day I’m gonna rip out your blue d-“

“Giuliani, off. Now!“


	6. Finally Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G
> 
> From a tumblr drabble prompt list: "Tonight, we're drinking straight from the bottle"

It had been a long, tiring day for C-Sec.

A threat against the Elcor ambassador had all the presidium stations on high alert and it had taken the tech team most of the day to get to the source, while riot squad members in heavy servo armour marked their presence on the streets. Adessar, Miura and their squadmates found themselves out of station 14 right when the artificial sky started darkening, bathing the high rise buildings in hues of pink and gold.

After saying their goodbyes, the two wandered the streets aimlessly, waiting for their adrenaline to subside, until they happened upon a hole-in-the-wall beverage store.

"I could totally go for a stiff drink right now“, Miura murmured to herself and headed inside.

“Did you get two glasses?” Adessar asked when she returned after a minute with a large container of cheap vodka substitute and something dextro in a slender bottle with long, triangular neck that would slot perfectly between turian mouth plates. But Miura wrinkled her nose at him, as she always did when she was dissatisfied with something he said.

„We had a tiring day. Tonight, we‘re drinking straight from the bottle.“

The tone in her voice made Adessar wonder. He looked at Miura, his head cocked. „Hear hear. You always say you‘d like to be more classy. Now suddenly all it takes is a hard day to revert to your old ways?“

“Shut it, Quintus, I have my reason.“

Drinks in hand, they continued on their way until reaching a small park overlooking the arm of Kithoi ward. For a few minutes, they sat side by side, watching the crowd on their daily business while the Presidium sky darkened to night cycle. The buzz in their heads started subsiding, replaced by the comforting, warm glow of inebriety.

“You know“, Adessar heard Miura say after a few minutes of contemplative side-by-side drinking, “I would have never thought I‘d say that, but I think it’s a good day to be me.“

It wasn’t exactly what he would have expected from her. He was so used to her dropping cutting remarks or slurs, something as soft as this surprised him. He looked at her from the side before reaching out and placing his palm on her forehead, as if taking her temperature. “Are you sick?”

His hand was so big it covered most of her face, but he‘d seen this gesture in an old Earth movie and had wanted to try it out for quite some time.

Miura made a weird sound, something between a snarl and a laugh, before shoving him away. “I‘m not sick! Get that paw off my head, you‘re suffocating me.“

Illuminated by the ward’s neon lights, she looked back out over the crowd walking by. The shop signs reflected in her dark eyes, giving her an otherworldly touch that stirred Adessar‘s blood. He extended his hand again, ruffling the short hair at the back of her neck, the silky strands soft against his fingers, wondering when exactly he’d grown this fond of her.

“I just...“ Not reacting to his caresses, Miura gestured around herself, some of the yellowish liquid in her bottle sloshing over the rim. “I told you I didn’t know where I belong, right? But today showed me I am where I want to be. Out there on the street,I was doing something that matters. I stood there, safe and strong in my armour, and realized I love working at C-Sec. The way I dreamt all those years.“

It was the first time since he knew her that she’d said something positive on her own, and about herself. She’d told him about her past, the reason why she distrusted everyone and reacted with spite and hate to everyone trying to get close to her. It had been what had incited him to tease her in the first place, and finally seduce her. That urge to make her his, that prickly little human who would show disdain towards everyone, he’d wanted to see her come undone underneath him. But the Miura seated next to him now was different. More at peace with herself. She was finally putting the ghosts of her past beind. On a whim, Adessar hugged her to his chest against her squeaked protests. A low purr of elation was rumbling through him.

“Chiho Miura, welcome home.“

Leaned against him, face buried in his tunic, she nodded, then looked up. The city lights played over her features, lighting up the tawny brown colour of her cheeks.

“Yeah. I think I know where I belong. Lemme tell you a secret?“

A conspiratory smile was playing at the edges of her mouth.

“Sure.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper as she stretched herself to get close to his ear canal. “I find the way you turians drink by shoving bottlenecks down your throats incredibly amusing.”

Adessar shook his head before giving a deep sigh. “Way to ruin the mood by insulting my species!”

“Hey it’s cute! It was a compliment. I also like the way you lap tea from your bowl. Very regal. Very civilized.”

His mandibles twitching in amusement, Adessar reached out to ruffle her hair again, delighting in the way she squealed as she tried getting away from his hand.

“You know, Chiho, you always call me an asshole but you’re not one jot better.”

Miura huffed. “Never said I was. Yet you keep coming back for more.”

“Are you flirting with me, Ms. Miura?”

“Maybe so, Mr. Adessar.”

He looked at her, noticing the way her nose crinkled in mockery, an air of mischief around her. She may not have liked herself, always insisted she was ugly, but though they were as different as they could be and human standards of beauty didn’t apply to him, right now he found her incredibly beautiful.

“Let’s go then. My bottle is empty and I feel like eating something spicy. What do you humans call it? Date night?”

She nodded against his chest. “The bar on the Plaza?” she suggested. “It’s close to here and does both dextro and levo menu.”

Adessar got up, dragging Miura to her feet with him, still hugging her close.

“Sounds good. You can keep flirting with me over a few grilled skewers, Ms. Miura. You know I like to be flattered. Bring me the charm, and I’ll make sure you'll feel at home after that.”

She floundered a little, until he let her down. When her feet touched the ground, she punched him in the side. He definitely needed someone to show him the ropes.

“Deal, Mr. Adessar!”


	7. Fuzzy Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated a slightly raunchy T for imagery
> 
> A present for nerdierholler.tumblr.com, after a discussion we held about Adessar being introduced to ABBA and becoming a fervent fan.

Quintus Adessar’s neighbours had to put up with quite a lot noise-wise; Everything from rowdy parties with his squadmates to bringing home random late-night acquaintances (of various species and genders) for incredibly noisy, inebriated sex... the three salarians on floor 18 had by now given up on complaining. But ever since he’d been introduced to that specific music ‘for laughs’ by his human squadmates, the worst was when he got into _that_ mood and decided it was time for some naked impromptu ABBA karaoke.

A dual-toned voice rang out from the 17th floor, in surprisingly perfect harmony with Agnetha and Anni-Frid, the volume so high it made the windows rattle.

 

_Honey honey, how you thrill me, a-ha, honey honey_

_Honey honey, nearly kill me, a-ha, honey honey_

 

It was the night of the big C-Sec Halloween Party hosted by Captain Bailey, and Adessar had made sure everything was ready. Both costumes were ironed and hanging side by side. Quivering with excitement, Adessar ran one taloned hand over his, admiring again the handiwork on the purple overall specially tailored to fit his turian physiology, before heading to the bathroom. It had cost him quite a chunk of his paycheck, but he simply couldn’t pass up this chance of dressing like his secret idol Benny Andersson once in his life. The boots had been a challenge. In the end he’d managed to find a pair of stylish turian ones he could modify with some paint to resemble cowboy boots. Full of reverence, he got the wig out of its box on the bathroom counter, contemplating in the mirror how to best affix it to his fringe.

 

_I'd heard about you before_

_I wanted to know some more_

_And now I know what they mean, you're a love machine_

_Oh, you make me dizzy_

 

Adessar’d turned the music up so loud and was so in sync singing along that he didn’t hear the door to his apartment whoosh open until he heard Chiho Miura’s familiar voice yell right into his ear canal, making him jump, the wig flying off into a corner where it lay still like a strange sort of furry animal.

“YOU SHAVED GIULIANI!” she screamed at him, too wound-up to even notice his nudity, her right hand gesturing frantically at the picture on her omni-tool of a huddled Francesco Giuliani making shocked eyes at the camera, his chest as blank as a little boy’s except for a few sad tufts that had evaded the razor.

“WHY, QUINTUS, WHY?”

Unperturbed, in the background, Agnetha and Anni-Frid sang on.

 

_Honey honey, touch me baby, a-ha, honey honey_

_Honey honey, hold me baby, a-ha, honey honey_

_You look like a movie star (look like a movie star)_

_But I know just who you are (I wonder just who you are)_

 

After a sad look towards his now matted wig, Adessar scolded himself for giving Miura his door PIN. They had arranged to meet at his place, but he didn’t think she’d turn up this early. Giving a sigh, he faced her with a _so what?_ look on his face, evident in the set of his mandibles, planting himself in front of her.

“Well it’s Halloween Party tonight. Have you seen Giuliani naked? He’s got lots of hair, he won’t miss it.”

 

_Honey honey, let me feel it, a-ha, honey honey_

_Honey honey, don't conceal it, a-ha, honey honey_

_The way that you kiss good night_

_The way that you hold me tight_

_I feel like I wanna sing when you do your thing-_

 

“Adessar, why? You can’t just jump on people with an electric shaver! Human hair is very personal. AND TURN OFF THAT MUSIC IT’S TOO LOUD!”

“Sheesh, relax!” he motioned his stereo to mute before turning back to Miura.

She stood in the entrance to his bathroom with her arms crossed, cheeks darkened in anger, eyes blazing as always when she was annoyed with him, which was most of the time. In his heart, Adessar knew she would be the most beautiful Anni-Frid the universe had ever seen.

“Listen, I...”

“No, you will listen to me Mr. Adessar! Sometimes you’re such an asshole, I really don’t know why everyone’s putting up with you? Me included, and I regret agreeing to going to that party with you, especially without knowing about the costume!”

Her cheeks puffed out before she stalked over to his couch and flopped down, eyes still blazing. “I would have NEVER taken you for an ABBA kind of turian. You know how ancient that music is? I only showed it to you for laughs!”

Adessar had opened his mouth to shoot back a sharp remark but then deflated.

"Please don’t tell anyone? They’ll make fun of me.”

Rolling her eyes, Miura scowled at him. Her nostrils flared while she took a few deep breaths to calm down. When she spoke, there was barely controlled exasperation in her voice. “I don’t know what got into you. I know you can be childish, but this is too much! Why did you shave Giuliani?”

Adessar retrieved his wig from the bathroom corner. Carefully dragging his talons through the brown strands in an effort to untangle them, he sat down next to her on the couch. He didn’t bother with dressing, seen that Miura had experienced him naked often enough by now. Staring straight at the ground, he began.

“I… I was scared about telling you because I thought you’d refuse if I told you before. I wanted us to go to the party dressed as Anni-Frid and Benny from ABBA. I didn’t know where to get chest hair from until I saw Giuliani shower, so I went for it. Instant decision.”

He couldn’t help it; a bit of pride at his glorious idea resonated in his subvocals. He expected her to flip at him, the way she always did when she was feeling overwhelmed, but instead, a strange sound reached his ear canal. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was Miura. Holding her stomach, her whole body shaking, she flopped back on the couch giggling until Adessar gently caught her by the shoulders. Seeing his mandibles twitch in confusion, Miura managed to pull herself together.

“Quintus- you’re an asshole but this is actually really funny. Really stupid, too”, she managed to say in between fits of laughter. “I’m sure if you asked Giuliani nicely he’d have let you shave him, instead of chasing him through the hallways and wrestling him down near Chellick’s office.”

"But it worked! It’ll grow back, right?”

Miura sighed again, the angry expression on her face changed into mischief.

“That’s true. He’s got plenty as-is.”

The situation defused, Adessar grew bolder.

“Will you please help me get ready for the party? I got spray adhesive for the chest hair”, he said, a hopeful purr to his subvocals.

Miura tried looking annoyed again, but in the end the corners of her mouth quirked upwards.

“Ok, _Benny._  First, show me my costume. I wanna see what you got me into. And then, I suppose I’ll spray you with glue and kinda… scatter Giuliani’s collected chest hair over your keel like confetti?”

She made a gesture with her hand, as if she was sprinkling glitter on the floor.

“Something like that.”

“I hate you, Quintus.”

 

* * *

 

The party itself was a huge success, C-Sec HQ’s top floor meeting room transformed into a big event hall, music loud enough to resound through the hallways. Apart from a few calls of “Hey Frida, you gonna sing for us?” and “Benny you forgot your keyboard!” nobody seemed to recognize them, which suited Miura who felt like an idiot dressed in her sky blue overall. The curly wig was itchy too, and the sparkly makeup burned in her eyes. But Adessar looked so proud and happy the way he strutted around with the chest hair stuck to his plates, she couldn’t bring herself to fall back into her sour mood.

Giuliani seemed weary at first when he saw Adessar with his fuzzy keel, but after the third drink, Miura found them sitting behind the bar arm in arm, singing a medley of turian rock songs glorifying the Hierarchy. Although Giuliani had his difficulties pronouncing all the growls, screeches and keens with his human vocal chords, at that stage of drunk, it didn’t matter anymore. The way they sat slouched against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, left no doubt that he’d forgiven Adessar.

Miura wiggled one finger under the scratchy wig, rubbing her itchy scalp. She wouldn’t admit it yet, but it turned out to be a nice party after all. And one thing she had to admit to herself, a warm, fuzzy feeling growing in her chest.

_Trust in your friends was to let them shave you for a perfect evening._


	8. A Kiss to Shut Them Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T
> 
> From a tumblr drabble prompt list: No. 7 A Kiss to Shut Them Up

She’d laid her charm on thick, subvocals soft yet incredibly explicit in what she wanted.

Adessar had seen her at the same bar before, quite a few times already, and they’d engaged in a little subvocal flirting too, though it had always been very casual, without any obligation.

Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to invite Miura for a date to one of his favourite watering holes, Adessar thought the second he noticed the other turian eyeing him in a not-too-subtle fashion.

His omni-tool pinged, displaying a short message.

_Will be late, CRT messed up. Ugh! - Chiho._

Adessar sighed. Ah well. Time for a second drink. Him motioning the bartender for a refill seemed to be the signal for her to walk over, leaning on the bar right next to where he was seated, one hand casually draped over a hip spur, showing off her angles. Adessar knew that woman meant business even before she reached out to brush a talon along his waist. She was beautiful, bright green eyes, sandy plates reflecting the light, slender mandibles giving an appreciating twitch when he turned his head in her direction. His flirting skills honed in years of practice, Adessar eyed her approvingly. He estimated her to be a good ten years older than he was, by the way her plates were slightly uneven around her jawline. She’d kept them buffed and shiny. And she was taller than him, too. Not bad at all. He knew he was committed, but the wild streak in him, the compulsion to flirt, was strong.

“Unfortunately I do have an appointment”, Adessar purred, trying not to sound too disappointed. His answer was met with a dismissive chuckle as she leant in to him, her head to the side, exposing the soft hide at the front of her throat. What a tease.

“I bet it’d be more fun with me”, she murmured, one hand grazing against his waist again. “Sure you can reschedule that meeting. How about you ditch-”

“ _Get away from my man_.”

Both Adessar and his new acquaintance froze at those words. Spirits, she was earlier than anticipated!

He spun around in his seat, focusing on the tiny human in front of him, in full attack mode. Miura’s eyes blazed, and her upper lip was quivering with barely controlled anger.

“Oh hey Chiho! Thought you were going to be late? I can expl-”

“I’ll deal with you later, Adessar”, she growled, ignoring his babbled efforts to diffuse the situation. “And you”, her head swung around to address the turian female who was a good two feet taller than her, like a very determined pyjak taking on a krogan, “you can turn on your heel and go look for someone else to screw tonight. This one’s taken.”

“Oh yeah?” Eyes narrowed. Pointy teeth were bared. Challenge accepted. “I don’t think he looks too overjoyed to see you, _human_ …”

“Fight me.”

And with that, Miura grabbed the still stammering Adessar by his mandibles, kissing him with more fervour than appropriate in such a public setting. It made him shut up instantly. His mouth opened, welcoming her, a habitual action. Miura latched on to him, tongue brushing against his, pulling out all the stops until he melted under her caresses with a delirious purr.

The other turian’s mandibles clacked close to her face, her subvocals buzzing with disapproval as she watched the scene unfold in front of her. An irritated growl left her throat.

Her point proven, Miura shoved Adessar off his bar chair and, unheeding the squawk as he fell backwards, turned around delivering one word. There was no doubt in whose favour this match had ended.

“Mine.”


	9. A Kiss In Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M
> 
> From a tumblr drabble prompt list, no. 46: A Kiss in Jealousy. Follow-up to chapter 8.

She jumped him the second the door had clicked shut. In retrospect, Adessar thought, the night hadn’t really gotten any better after Miura caught that other turian flirting with him at the bar. She’d been unresponsive all through her drink and the movie, eyeing him with mild dissatisfaction, not even looking at the screen half of the time. Her actions now came wholly unexpected. Or did they?

Her tongue pried his mouth plates apart, demanding access. Deft fingers found the clasps at his waist, snapped them open with astounding skill, squeezed his waist, before her hands snuck into his waistband and down his buttocks, raking blunt fingernails over his hide. Spirits she’d gotten good at this! Excitement rushed up his spine. At her mercy, Adessar felt his body react to her demands, in the most natural way possible. He dug his talons into her thigh, delighted in hearing her gasp, a sound full of want. Tore at her skirt, ripped it off. Yielded with a feral growl as she dragged him down to the floor with her.

And then she was on top of him, straddling his hips, grinding down on him, and still her mouth was on his, hot and incredibly wet, possessive. Irresistible.

_Mine._


	10. I Want to Take Care of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T
> 
> Giveaway present for the wonderful savbakk.tumblr.com!

It was one of those nights after a tiring shift where a few beers and mindless gossip went hand in hand. The Presidium 14 patrol squad had occupied most of the lower floor of their favourite hangout, and the buzz of what felt like a thousand different conversations filled the room.

“What about you? Any heartbreak stories to tell?“ someone asked over the din.

Giuliani thought about his answer, wiped his thumb over the condensation on his beer bottle. Then he scratched the dark stubble under his chin and shrugged. “Nah. For years, my _mamma_ kept bugging me to get married, to become… _come si dice_ …. respectable? So I fooled around half-heartedly but lately I realized I treasure the friendship with you guys more. Sorry.“

“Fair enough. Miura? Funny love stories?“

The tiny human scowled, as always when she was asked something personal. She ran her hands through her shaggy hair before vaguely gesturing to a silver-plated turian sitting off to the side.

“Not in the mood for games. Go bother Adessar, sure he got plenty to tell.“

With a quizzical chirp, Adessar looked up from his omni-tool at hearing his name. His mandibles gave a twitch. He‘d drunk too much too quickly tonight and had - against his outgoing disposition - chosen to sit at the table‘s edge and scroll through the news instead of participating in the discussions.

Miura leant over and prodded his waist. “Got raunchy stories to tell? They‘re bored.“

Had turians had ears, Adessar‘s would have pricked up instantly. His mandibles gave another twitch. No matter why and how, he loved being in the spotlight. He sighed dramatically before getting into full-on storyteller mode.

“Ok, here‘s a new one. There was this one woman I fell for last year. It was only a fling, but I couldn‘t get her out of my mind. She was -“, for lack of comparison he sized Miura up for a second or two and pointed a finger at her, “- about twice your size. Round hips. Everything about her was so soft! Long silver hair. Ah, when she shook it, it reminded me of the clouds drifting over Cipritine... I nicknamed her ‘Star’.“

Miura gave a sneer. “Didn‘t know you had it in you to be a romantic!“

“I’m not. But she was gorgeous. One hot encounter at the club. Alas, we parted ways.“

He scooted over closer to his friends on the bench, and gave a wink, another of the mannerisms he had adapted from his human squadmates.

“Now here’s the catch. I searched for her, asked around, until... remember the three asari from the prosecution office? Last month they said someone who looked like her worked at a bar down in Kithoi, so yeah. Borrowed the posh detective‘s cruiser, the one all in black with the leather seats that never gets used. I visited her. Imagine what happened...“

“You got her laid twice? Bro how do you do that?!“ Giuliani exclaimed, admiration in his voice.

Adessar‘s chuckle and subvocal hum was way too smug for his own good. “I’m a natural“, he purred, his voice caramel-smooth. “Backseat of that patrol car. Chellick never found out.“

Miura’s reaction was less positive. “You‘re disgusting“, she snarled somewhere through the agitated, and appraising, murmurs of their squadmates.

“Oh but I got an even better one!“

Ignoring Miura, Adessar revelled in the feeling of all that attention on him.

“Have you wondered why I‘ve been walking funnily last week? That was because of...“ He made a dramatic pause, noticing how everyone was hanging off his mouth plates in awe. When he continued, pride vibrated in his voice. “ _The Captain_!” His mandibles slackened at the memory. “Spirits! He was huge. All of him, if you know what I mean. And demanding. Quite the ride... Didn‘t know the Hierarchy bred that kind of turian anymore.”

Giuliani whistled, someone at the back gave an inebriate whoop.

“Ladykiller Quintus Adessar got himself laid by a Hierarchy captain? After they ditched you? No way, Letch!”

Adessar shrugged. “Can‘t help it, I‘m a sucker for punishment. Totally worth it.”

Somewhere in between his words, Miura gave a frustrated huff and got up so abruptly she knocked over her half-full bottle of Tupari. “Fuck you, I’m out of here!”

Ignoring the sticky soda bubbling over the surface of the table, she grabbed her jacket and shouldered her way out in a matter of seconds, in disregard of her friends‘ startled shouts.

If Quintus Adessar was good at something, it was sobering up really quickly when he had to. In a few long strides, he ran after her, catching up right outside the bar, then attempted to stop her by grabbing her shoulder.

“Wait up!“

Miura whipped around like a tiny animal that had been cornered and found every way of escape blocked, swatting his hand away. “Don‘t touch me, Adessar!“ she screamed, unheeding the passers-by looking at them with shocked expressions, while she backed up against the wall, crouched, ready to strike.

“Chiho, what got into you?“

She bared her teeth at him, her breath coming in short bursts, words barely more than a hiss. “Fuck you!“

“Oh spirits, come on!”

The alcohol swimming around in his system didn’t exactly help. Exploiting his reach, Adessar extended one hand, grabbed her upper arm, held her pinned with more force than appropriate.

Miura wound herself spewing obscenities, struggled against his vice-like grip. The muscles shifted under the fabric of her shirt. Adessar knew he was hurting her, but she wouldn’t stop yanking. Only when she realized there was no way of escape, that he wasn’t going to let her go, she finally calmed down. Her fists were clenched, her expression a strange mixture of emotions he found impossible to make out. After a few tense seconds of staring at each other, she deflated, taking a few long, deep breaths.

“Adessar, hearing you talk about your escapades so proudly... that hurt.”

He expected her to scream at him, the way she did so often when she felt overwhelmed, but her voice was softer than anticipated. “It was my fault to suggest you tell them. I‘m not assuming anything. But I thought I meant something to you, and back there, the way you boasted about your affairs, without consideration for me, you were kicking me in the face.”

Adessar exhaled. He’d had the nagging feeling of doing her wrong for quite some time now, growing whenever he went to casually pick up someone at the club. He anticipated she‘d say something like this one day, but he had delayed the moment he‘d have to face her about it. Fear squeezed his heart, made the skin around the plates on his neck prickle. Why had he waited so long to talk to her? This was the moment she was going to say she didn’t want him anymore.

Miura looked down at her one free hand, started picking at the frayed seam of her shirt. Her other arm hung limp in his grip. By the time she spoke, she had unravelled quite a bit of the thread.

“I don‘t know how to feel about you”, she finally said. “Or about us. You seduce me, twice, and that was infuriating and exciting at the same time? And then suddenly you start being so sweet. I mean, dinner dates! Lingerie! Acting all proper? I don‘t get it!”

“Should I leave?” Adessar asked, his voice low, tried keeping his subvocals from sounding too frightened. Although he’d been at important junctions before, decisions that turned his life upside down, he’d never been as scared as he was right now. He had tried staying uncommitted, but he had to admit to himself Miura meant more to him than he thought. Yes, she was difficult to deal with, always expected others to hurt her, but somehow, she managed to get the best out of him. She grounded him. If she told him to fuck off, he wasn‘t sure how to cope.

In the meantime, Miura had unravelled the whole hemline of her shirt. She broke off the thread, bunched it into a ball and flicked it aside, watched it tumble somewhere into a corner.

When she spoke, her voice was flat.

“I don’t want you to go. And I don’t mind you sleeping with random people. That’s your business. But it hurts to hear you boast about it while I sit close?” She gave a frustrated snort, as if she was annoyed at herself. “I’m really bad at this relationship stuff.”

Adessar’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he felt his hand unclench around her arm. A pang of regret hit him at handling her so roughly.

“Chiho, I owe you an apology.”

Struggling against his tipsiness, he let go of her, motioned her to sit down near him. He slumped against the wall, welcoming the chill permeating his tunic and seat. The light from the bar made patterns of neon flash over the sidewalk, and he spent a few seconds contemplating them. After a moment, Miura followed with a sigh, hugging her knees, chin resting on them.

“Enlighten me, Adessar. I wanna know what I am to you.”

Now was the time to be honest. He extended one hand, attempted to touch her. She withdrew with a grumble. Not the most encouraging premise, but he had to face her, and his fears.

“I saw you as a challenge in the beginning, and I am sorry“, he said after a few seconds, gaze fixed on the pavement. „It’s different now. You gave me these glimpses of what you had to go through when you were young. It changed my view. Chiho, I want to take care of you. Make up for all the hurt you had to endure. If I’d known earlier… Spirits, I’m not the relationship type, but-”

His voice broke off when he felt her fingertips ghost over his forearm, hesitant at first, absent-mindedly plucking at the fabric of his tunic. He looked up at her, noticed the wariness still reflected in her eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind being with you?” she said. It was more of a question than a statement, but it was a start.

Gingerly, Adessar placed his fingers over hers, marvelled at how tiny her hand looked in his. This time, she didn’t pull back.

“Let‘s try“, he finally said. “I can’t promise I won’t slip if someone nice gives me the eye. Seducing... is who I am. Like an itch I can’t shake. But I promise I will be sincere with you from now on. Can you accept that?”

She looked a bit unsure at first, as if she had to fight down the urge to flee again, before giving a curt nod. Then, totally unprovoked, she punched him in the side. The corners of her mouth twitched at hearing his confused chirp.

“Deal! Quintus, I swear; Should you ever be dishonest, I’ll make your life hell. You know I will.”

Relief washed over him like a wave at her words. The Miura he knew was back, and she wanted him to stay with her. He could work with that. _They_ could work with that.

“Yes I do. Come here?”

He ran his gloved talons along the line of her chin, gently lifted it upwards, then bent down to touch his forehead to hers. Closing his eyes, he felt her nose bump against his, inhaled her alien scent, cheap lotion and something else that reminded him of warm breakfast pastries. Comforting unlike anything he’d experienced before.

And he realized there was no other place he‘d rather be right now than seated on the pavement, against the outer wall of a small bar somewhere in Tayseri Ward. He noticed her lean closer, one hand settling on the curve of his waist for balance, the other sneaking to the back of his head, her breath warm against his face as she pressed a kiss to his mouth plates, an affirmation. They would work it out. A purr left him, full of relief.

Somewhere in the distance, Giuliani‘s voice drifted up through the street noise.

_Ma va! Che piccioncini!_

Adessar’s translator wasn’t programmed to understand Italian. Through half-closed eyelids, he perceived Miura extending one hand, giving her whole squad the finger all while kissing him, a gesture that was answered with whistles and catcalls.

He closed his eyes again, savouring the moment. In his heart, Adessar knew they’d be the talk of the office tomorrow, but if he had to be honest, right now, he didn’t care. Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stories referenced here are the following: All of the [Citadel Elevator Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/894177), as well as [Night Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945940/chapters/34630533) and [Star](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810743/chapters/31757040).


	11. Caught in the Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M
> 
> From a tumblr drabble prompt list: 'Caught in the Act'

In retrospect, Francesco Giuliani thought, he should have heeded the background noise more. He’d finished his shift and knew Adessar and Miura had too, since he could hear them in the adjacent changing room, as always loudly bickering with each other about trivial things as they stripped out of their armour. The clang of ceramic plates being stacked into lockers and heated discussions echoed around the room.

They’d never learn… With a sigh, Francesco let them be and went for a shower.

When he returned, rubbing himself dry with his towel, the situation hadn’t gotten any better. He did hear something that sounded like cursing, then a gasp and someone being banged against a locker door with force.

Alright, that was it. Used to living with three brothers and his mom, Francesco was a very peace-loving person. Friends shouldn’t be fighting, it was bad for the working climate. Muttering under his breath, he put on his boxers and stalked around the corner.

„Guys can’t you be peaceful for onc- Whoaa _ma che cazzo_ -!“

He expected them to be at each other’s throats. What he did not expect was to see them _doing it_ right there, in plain view. For the vehemence they were exhibiting and the face Miura made while she was shoved up on the wall with each vigorous thrust, her fingernails digging into Adessar’s cowl as if her life depended on it, they were fighting, albeit in a different way.

Francesco stood there, glued to the spot, unable to tear his eyes from the scene. He knew the picture was going to be burnt into his retina forever; Adessar’s lean, clenched turian buttocks, ramming Miura against the lockers, her legs wrapped around his narrow waist, one foot outstretched, toes splayed in delight.

Right. There. In plain sight.

Francesco had seen his share of naked people of all species and genders in the communal showers, and it had never been a big deal. But this? Walking in on your friends getting frisky was an entirely different thing. His thoughts were galloping in his head, a whirlwind of shame, amusement, and confusion. What was the protocol in these situations again..? He slowly turned around to leave…

In that second, Miura opened one eye, and, in between gasps, yelled at him.

„Gods, Giuliani! Join in or fuck off!“

A ‘heh’ came from Adessar at hearing her words, accompanied by a very smug purr. He didn’t seem surprised or flustered in the least. The muscles in his legs flexed as he turned around hefting Miura with one arm wedged under her ass, displaying that typical turian upper body strength everybody was so in awe of.

„You heard the lady“, he purred, way more seductively than appropriate in such a situation, while Miura chuckled into his cowl.

Francesco was a mediterranean type and not prone to blushing, but he could feel the blood shoot to his cheeks in seconds, turning his olive complexion beet red. _This is highly improper_ , his mother’s voice piped up in his mind. No matter how far away from Earth she was, she’d always have the mindset of someone raised in a small sicilian town, and she’d partly succeeded in handing this attitude down to her sons.

„Sorry!“ he squeaked, then slunk away, dressed in a haste. Tying the shoelaces with trembling fingers was more difficult than expected, especially considering the other two had ramped up the volume again by now and all those increasingly feral-sounding growls were starting to distract him in a major way. Francesco wasn’t a religious man, but he prayed to any gods who might be listening he’d never have to witness turian mating again.

It took him three days until he was able to look them in the eyes, but after that he got used to them making suggestive expressions at him when they crossed in the corridor. They were still the best friends one could wish for, no matter how naughty they decided to be. 


	12. Crime Scene: Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G
> 
> Giveaway prize for squeakybaconut.tumblr.com!

They found Quintus Adessar sitting against a cupboard in the kitchenette, outstretched arm limp, timer beeping, smoke billowing from the oven behind him. His eyes were glazed over, stare catatonic. Cocoa powder covered him like a thin patina of dust, turned his silvery plates a dirty brown, except for the places where a rivulet of saliva had carved its way down his neck through the gap in his jaw. Turian mouths weren’t the wettest places in the galaxy, but something had made him gag. His tunic, and most of the counters and cupboard doors were crusty with half-dried cake batter. It looked, by all means, like a crime scene, were it not for the fact that it was Chiho Miura’s apartment, and Quintus had been in charge with birthday preparations for her.

“By the goddess, Letch! What happened?”

Alena T’Rani’s maternal instinct kicked in instantly. She placed the presents she’d been carrying on the living room table and scooped her squadmate up in her strong arms, unheeding his stickiness.

“Francesco, turn off that oven!” she yelled over her shoulder while she wrestled Quintus towards the bathroom.

“Yes Ma’am!”

With Francesco’s blasphemies in the background, Alena put Quintus down in the shower unit and turned on the water. It took her quite a few minutes to get him out of his tunic, him curled up in fetal position, and she cursed turians and their spikiness. Cocoa powder turned the water muddy, bubbled down the drain in swirls, followed by gobs of batter. The cold water seemed to do him good though. At one point, Quintus finally snapped his eyes open and started flailing, all while making quite pathetic mewling sounds that were wholly undignified for a grown creature his size.

“Hey Letch, you ok?”

Alena’s voice was soft as she turned off the faucet, then grabbed one of Miura’s towels from the hanger to dry off his carapace.

He nodded, shakily propped himself up on one elbow.

“Never thought baking a cake was that dangerous”, he managed to say. He looked like someone who had just gone through hell and barely made it back, even the flange in his voice sounded flat. “It looks so easy on the recipe? But the ko-ko powder exploded in my face. Then the batter attacked me. It all went downhill.”

Alena sighed. It was always the same when people who had never seen a kitchen from the inside tried their hands at baking for the first time. They were ambitious, and overzealous, and often things would backfire. She had spent a good 100 years working in various bars and restaurants before changing over to C-Sec, and knew her way around ovens well enough to know what she had to watch out for.

“Well you survived, and made Miura a birthday cake. Congratulations! We’ll try to get everything in order before she comes home from her shift. You stay here and recover, okay?”

He nodded, still huddled in the shower cubicle, towel wrapped around him like a blanket.

With a last glance back, Alena stalked off towards the kitchenette, where Francesco was fanning what looked like a really small brick of charcoal with his datapad.

“At least he tried?” Francesco said, with an apologetic grin.

“Yeah… We’ll put it in the freezer for a moment, then put some icing and sprinkles on top, maybe she won’t notice.”

They barely had enough time to get the apartment into a half-clean state and put decoration on the wretched cake before the rest of the party guests arrived. The two salarian techs from station 15 took a glance at the sugared brick and broke out in hysterical laughter while Quintus, half-naked, stood to the side with his mandibles pinched close to his face. The tunic was still drying in the bathroom, his trousers clung to him damply. All the levo cake ingredients he accidentally inhaled made his plates itch, too. He hadn’t managed to get the batter out of his crevices yet and longed for a good scrubbing at home. Salarians making fun of his baking skills weren’t very high on his list right now.

At seeing him so disgruntled, Alena went over and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Look, Letch. You tried, and she’ll appreciate the effort, I’m sure.”

“You think so?” Quintus looked at his friend from the side, subvocals buzzing with annoyance. “Do you know how long it took me to persuade her to lend me her apartment for this? Bet she expects a three-tiered cream-filled super fancy cake with fendant on top!”

“Fondant, you mean”, Alena corrected. “Fendant is a wine from Earth.”

Quintus gave a dual-toned whine, full of frustration. ”Whatever! I only hope she won’t open the top cupboard, the rest of the unruly batter’s still in there. It filled three bowls!”

Alena scratched her cornflower blue neck in desperation. “You’re an idiot! You can’t just put things out of sight and hope it’ll get better!”

“Of course it does! I might have gotten the measurements wrong, but at least the batter is out of the way”, he grumbled.

“Well we’d better-”

A beep from the door made them all look up. Chiho was earlier than anticipated. No time to finish cleaning up the mess. Alena groaned.

Chiho was dressed in her habitual cargo pants and tanktop, but for once, her face was relaxed. She looked approachable enough, a content smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It didn’t happen often, and Quintus hoped she’d be lenient, this being the first time in her life she got a proper birthday party. Her initial confession was what sparked this idea of preparing something for her. She’d never had a caring family up to now, nobody who supported her no matter what, and she deserved some real friendship after everything she’d gone through. In his book, this was the perfect opportunity to show her what friends did for each other, in addition to it being a party. Quintus was not one to miss the opportunity to party.

“Happy Birthday, Chiho!” everyone chorused obediently, as Francesco had instructed them to do, while Quintus stepped forwards shoving the sad excuse for a cake into her hands.

She looked from everyone’s grinning faces to the sticky, carbonized heap for quite some time, then at him. Her forehead furrowed. “You made this? Is it safe to eat?”

Quintus nodded, mandibles wide in an approximation of a grin. “Yep. It’s a marble cake. With sprinkles. And icing. As you can see.”

Her face changed to a deadpan expression. When she spoke, she sounded a little forced. “That’s sweet of you! Where’s your tunic?”

“Oh. I’m part two of the birthday present.” He motioned at himself, straining to make up a witty reply. “You’ll get all of this later?”

She didn’t look too convinced, but finally broke into a feeble smile and patted him on the shoulder nonetheless.

“Well thank you. I’m gonna get something to drink. Wait here.”

She put the cake down in between the other snacks littering the table, then walked over to the kitchenette before the others could stop her. As if in slow motion, Quintus saw her reach for the top cupboard knob and….

“Chiho, don’t-”

A clang and a surprised shout, before Chiho reemerged, drenched in batter from head to toe. She scanned the room for the culprit, who had by then, still half-naked, legged it down the hallway for the elevator.

“AH-DESS-AAAAAAAAAR!!”

Chiho streaked past her friends, screaming in fury. Given her small size, she tore after Quintus with surprising speed. It was pure rage that propelled her.

Somewhere in the distance, a dual-toned yelp rang out. Apparently she’d caught up with him. Alena and her friends stood rooted to the spot, drinks still in hand, listening to the litany of swear words echoing through the corridor.

“Are they always this way?” one of the station 15 salarians asked after an embarrassed pause. Alena gave an indifferent shrug. “Yeah. They’re energetic like that. I believe it’s a form of affection.”

“Oh ok. Something like a mating display?”

Alena chuckled. Gotta love a salarian’s outlook on romance. She inclined her head in his direction. “Yeah, you could say that.”

In the end, it wasn’t a bad birthday party at all after they helped retrieve a quivering Quintus from the staircase. They drank and laughed, and drank some more, ordered some spicy takeout delivered by a not very enthusiastic volus. Everyone ignored the cake until Alena discreetly caused it to vanish. She was the last to go home, except for Quintus who was left on all fours cleaning the kitchen, and Chiho cussing at him in the most colourful way possible, prodding him in the waist with her naked toes from time to time.

Yes, Alena thought to herself as she walked down to the CRT station with a spring in her step, they were going to be all right. Friendship was to forgive, and not to fuss over a mishappen cake.


	13. Crêpes Suzette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M..? very light NSFW.
> 
> for thealexmachina.tumblr.com and theravenofwynter.tumblr.com after a discussion about 'food porn' recipe videos...

Chiho Miura woke, her consciousness rising as if it was a bubble from the bottom of a murky pond, slow and lazy, burst on the surface with a flash of headache. She felt around on the floor. Well she was at home, that was sure. Nobody else had a kitchen rug as grimy as hers, she’d recognize it with eyes closed. Not the best thing to sleep on, but eh.

What had she been up to last night..?

A few tired neurons frizzled into action. Something about Crêpes Suzette… cooking at home…  Chiho pushed herself off the floor and groaned when her world spun, a wave of nausea washing over her. Icing sugar cascaded off her like dandruff. She licked her lips, tasted the cloying sweetness, sticky against her puffy, dried-out tongue.

She did a quick pat-down of herself.

Oh brilliant. No panties. 

Her groping hand landed in a crusty puddle of crêpe batter, made her shy back in disgust. Cursing, she stumbled backwards, slipped in a patch of unidentified liquid and hit her head on a cupboard. The sound of the impact boomed around the small apartment like the crack of a gunshot. 

The memory of the evening came back to her, a punch to the gut. 

Oh. Damn. 

“Adessaaaaar!” she hollered while rubbing her throbbing head, swayed as she lurched into the living room, not bothering to put on more clothes. The tanktop she was wearing had to be enough for the moment. As expected no answer, but there were faint snoring noises coming from behind the couch. Chiho braced herself for the sight she expected as she peered around the armrest. Naked, inebriate turians weren’t a sight for people with sensitive stomachs. Or maybe it was just Quintus Adessar who looked unsightly when he was sleeping, a strange metamorphosis from his everyday smooth and sexy self. The first time she’d witnessed it, she’d hardly believed her eyes. Chiho prodded his bare backside with her toes.

“Wake up, asshole!”

Fascinating how quickly he could sober up when he had to. His eyes flew open, scanned the room quickly to assess the situation before honing in on her. A mandible twitched, once, twice, as if he had to test his bodily reactions. Her half-naked state didn’t seem to faze him in the least.

“Oh hey Chiho?”

Arms crossed, she scrunched her nose at him, her favourite way to show dissatisfaction.

“Surprise, it’s me. See the state of my kitchenette? Can you tell me what happened? Because I sure as hell don’t believe the bullshit my brain is trying to suggest is true.”

He chuckled as he stretched, muscles shifting smoothly under his silvery plates, arching his back like a big cat, not even bothering to dress, so typical of him. He really had no sense of shame.

“You sure you want me to tell you.” The way he said it, it was more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah?” Her headache pulsed behind her temples. Irritated, she rubbed them, tried massaging the pain away, to no avail. “Quintus, I don’t have patience right now.”

“As you wish.”

His voice went down a notch, to that specific timbre he used to seduce, flange more prominent than usual, as he walked over to her, one hand ghosting against her waist, pulling her close to him.

“So you want me to tell you how you _begged_ me to start cooking together as a sort of ‘bonding experience’ after the birthday cake debacle…”  His hand wandered further down, talons dimpling the skin of her ass, making her huff in irritation. She tried swatting his hand away, but he persevered.

“…how you said you wanted to try cooking some traditional and sophisticated dessert.”

He unfurled his tongue, flicked it against her ear, only for a fraction of a second, felt her tense up in his arms. When he continued, his voice was barely more than a seductive purr.

“‘Crêpes Suzette’, you said. From a place called Frahnz. Where all the sexy ladies live. Ladies like you.”

A faint snort came from her, as always when she thought he said something ridiculous. Quintus knew she didn’t hold herself in high regard, and that she had never set foot on a planet up to now, but while she didn’t approve of his words, at least she didn’t struggle when he started kneading her backside.

“We stood there squinting at the recipe, because we both live off takeout and are hopeless around any kitchen appliance. So we decided to open the booze, have a sip to make everything easier. You had quite a few glasses of… Grand Marnier, if I remember correctly. You and your love for sweets.”

Without hurry, he maneuvered her backwards until the small of her back struck the top of the kitchen counter, made her flinch in surprise. Unheeding her reaction, he continued.

“At one point, you started giggling, as you were measuring out the flour. Most of it landed outside of the measuring bowls. You tried cleaning the mess, but it was a futile attempt. If I remember correctly, you threw the open bag of sugar at me when I laughed. I threw it back. And I said ‘Chiho, you’re drunk, are you sure of this’? But yes, indeed you were…”

One of his thumbs dipped into the icing sugar scattered over the countertop, traced the line of her lower lip with it. He could see she was still seething, but a certain sparkle had returned in her eyes, the one she got when she decided to join the game. Goal achieved. The pink tip of her tongue appeared between her lips, licked the sugar off before she inclined her head to nip at his finger, teasingly.

“Uh-huh, Ms. Miura. This seems to have jogged your memory?”

Chiho gave another of her deprecative huffs, so typical of her.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t mind you recounting how you helped me whisk the batter.”

Her hips gave a twitch, just the tiniest hint of movement, against him, an invitation. A light growl, full of anticipation, left his throat at her action.

“Already whipping out the dirty talk aren’t you. Very naughty.”

“And what if I am?” she retorted with a wink.

“Hey I’m not one to complain. So at one point, you were bent over the counter, measuring the milk before adding it to the flour, and the whole scenery looked so mouth-watering I couldn’t help but take a bite. It got increasingly hot since you started on that orange caramel sauce and it was bubbling away on the stove. The whole apartment started smelling so deliciously, just as it does now-”

“- and here I thought you were talking about the crêpes?”

A shrug, one of those oh-so-convenient human mannerisms Quintus had picked up from his squadmates over the time.

“I can’t even eat them, I was there as your moral support. Or physical support, if needed.”

“And that you did marvellously as we can deduct from the aftermath. We’re only missing a murder victim.”

Her arms went around him, and he felt her blunt fingernails raking over his hide. To be honest, there wasn’t very much to his backside (neither was there to hers), but it was a perfect handful. The strength her tiny fingers exhibited when she squeezed his flesh astounded him every time.

“You know…. we’re not C-Sec for nothing. We could try and reconstruct the crime scene”, she said, one eyebrow cocked, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards, as it always did when she started teasing. He bent down to nuzzle the side of her face, rubbed one mandible against her cheek, revelled in her perfume, that underlying creamy scent he recognized as typical human, overlaid with what made her so unique, a hint of stale sweat and cheap soap and the tiniest amount of spice, noticed with amusement how she gave an appreciative murmur at his actions. He knew where this was going to end, and he wasn’t going to complain. It was a good way to wake up. His pelvic plates had shifted ever since she’d told him to recount the evening. This was gonna be fun.

“Is the rowdy riot squad officer putting on airs of becoming a detective?” he teased, laving his tongue along the side of her neck.

She slapped his rump in feigned outrage before her hands trailed around his torso to the front, traced the grooves between his plates from the waist down, made him growl in anticipation.

“Same could be said about you, tech genius. Go fetch a condom, told you my patience is limited. Might help my headache, too.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He was incredibly fast to comply with orders when they entailed sex. It took Quintus only a few seconds to get back to her, leaning against the dirty worktop, idly trailing patterns in the flour. She lifted her head when he returned, and the look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Her arms went around his neck as he hoisted her up onto the counter, scattering the rest of their cooking experiment, the last two left over bowls toppling onto the floor, enveloping them in a cloud of icing sugar and orange zest. Her fumbling hand landed in the caramel sauce, left sticky handprints on his carapace when, overwhelmed, she groped for hold, but for once, they both didn’t mind the mess. There were more urgent matters to attend to.

Later, there would be takeout.


	14. Nursing Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G
> 
> From a tumblr drabble prompt list 'How long have you been like this?'

"Adessar? He‘s on sick leave, got the flu. Didn’t you know?"

She would have never thought a simple sentence such as this would unsettle her, but Chiho was fidgety during her whole shift, and after signing out, her feet didn’t carry her home as they usually did, but instead towards the CRT Presidium Loop Line.

She found him huddled under his sheets, a pile of misery, his face crusty with mucus half-heartedly wiped off.

Chiho Miura wasn‘t one to be empathic, but seeing a grown turian (her grown turian, she had to correct herself) plagued by the flu was an unsettling sight. They always looked so on top of everything, those turians, so composed and perfect, that even thinking about one of them sick was weird.

She walked over to the environmental controls, set the room temperature down and the air flow to high, an attempt at clearing the apartment of its stuffiness. The place reeked of stale air and stationary turian, thick and dusty, gave her tongue a furry tang. Then she turned around, hands braced on her hips, disapproval in her voice.

"Gods Quintus, how long have you been like this?"

He sneezed once, his nose crinkling, rubbed his face against the caked bolster.

"Three days," he mumbled before burrowing deeper into his blankets until all that peeked out from underneath was two talons and the tip of his fringe.

Chiho groaned, tugged on the cover to reveal him. He peered up at her like a grumpy owl that had been awakened from slumber, the dark skin around his eyes shiny with moisture.

"Quintus, why didn‘t you say anything? I could have dropped by after my shifts, made you some tea or something!"

His subvocals vibrated with defiance.

"Didn‘t want to bother you," he grumbled.

Chiho rolled her eyes, as always when she was irritated by him. "You‘re not bothering me, you asshole! It‘s my job to be prickly and distant, not yours, so let me take care of you for once!"

She put the back of her hand against the underside of his jaw, then withdrew her hand as if he had given her an electric shock. Turians were warmer to the touch than humans due to their higher body temperature, but right now, Quintus was the equivalent of a blast furnace.

"Shit you‘re hot!"

He chuckled. While feeble, a hint of smugness had creeped into his voice.

"Yeah, I know."

She shook her head. A smile tugged on the corners of her mouth before she ran her hand along his fringe, drawing a light purr from him. One thing was sure, he couldn‘t be that badly off if he was still making jokes.

All of a sudden, Chiho felt reminded of her childhood, as she was sitting on the edge of the bed stroking his face. She looked down at Quintus with his crusty plates and eyes closed, and a disturbing tenderness ran through her.

"Mom used to sing to me when I was tiny and sick," she started, to no one in particular. "She left before I grew up, but I remember the feeling of her voice? It was comforting, carried over the steady hum of the engine, over the clang of produce pallets being hauled out, over my dad’s shouts."

While her fingers caressed Quintus‘ fringe absent-mindedly, she looked up, stared at the wall.

"It‘s funny I don‘t remember her at all, except for hating her for leaving, and the songs. Do turians sing to their sick children?"

Her hand wandered down, scratching the soft hide underneath his mandible, and he exhaled, snuggled into her touch, too weak to oppose her.

"Not exactly," he murmured. "We use subvocals to calm and soothe, convey emotion. You could call that singing."

"Must be wonderful. Are you hungry?"

He grumbled, made a tiny sound of disgust in the back of his throat. "No. Don’t wanna."

"Don’t be a baby, Quintus! You look like you haven’t eaten in days. You need to get your strength back."

With determination, she picked at one of the corners of his eyes, dislodged some of the encrustations, ignoring his feeble growl, then watched him curl up on his side, his lids droop.

"Look I’m gonna help you clean up. You’ll feel better after a thorough scrubbing, yeah? And I’ll order you some hot congee or whatever the turian equivalent of that is. Heard it’s the best when you’re down with the flu."

He didn’t answer as he’d dozed off. But Chiho ordered that takeout, including a gigantic greasy burrito for herself, dragged Quintus to the bathroom unit and gave him a thorough brushing while they waited for the food to arrive. Fed him the congee down to the last slimy piece of unmentionable shredded offal all while battling her urge to gag, made sure he had his water bottle filled and some snacks within reach.

After a few days, when he was back to normal, his smooth and sexy self, she’d deny everything. Chiho Miura was not someone who mothered sick people. She had a reputation to uphold after all.


	15. Morning Wash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T
> 
> For Tumblr #fictober18, Prompt "Don't worry, we still got time."

_ Brush brush brush.. _ .

“Gods, Quintus, aren’t you finished soon?”

Chiho Miura glanced at the clock on her omni-tool, one click after the other, carrying her closer to being late for work. It was always the same when she stayed over at his place. There was a reason she tried to avoid the situation, and that reason was Quintus’ morning routine. As for herself, it took her an instant to get ready; it usually involved brushing her teeth, splashing some cold water on her face, slapping on any kind of cheap moisturizer she could get her hands on, and that was it. If she felt fancy, she’d quickly ruffle through her hair too. On most days, she didn’t care.

But Quintus Adessar was the most vain creature in the universe according to her. He took hours to get ready. He’d stand in his bathroom naked, and in between brushing and buffing the plates on his face and neck, oiling said facial plates and neck, checking if colony markings were in tip-top condition and sparkly white (they were), using a mouth cleaning tab for fresh breath, checking his hide all over for dry patches, and buffing his talons until they sparkled. For some miraculous reason he always found time to make sexy faces in the mirror, give himself pep-talks, admire the impeccable shine of his fringe and, what Chiho found absolutely impossible, turn around and check out his own backside. As if there was much to see. As a species, turians weren’t well endowed in the butt department anyway, and Quintus’ was an especially lean model.

It drove Chiho crazy. And not the good kind of crazy.

“No worries, we still got time. Even for a breakfast break,” his voice rang from the bathroom, flange flat in concentration, accompanied by the steady sounds of bristles being dragged in between turian facial plates for the umpteenth time.

_ Brush brush brush... _

She looked at the clock again, the rhythm with which her nostrils flared growing increasingly impatient. When minutes ticked by and all she heard were the subvocal purrs of a turian completely absorbed in his tasks ( _ brush brush brush _ ), she stalked over to the bathroom, threw herself against the doorframe with arms crossed.

“Come on, asshole! You look good, let’s go. Chellick will tan our hides if we arrive late!!”

He stopped his preening for a second to glance over at her, unhurried.

“Wanna help me get ready?” he purred, subvocals taking up a seductive tinge, showing himself at his best by flaunting his gleaming body under the neon light.

Anger crept into Chiho’s cheeks, glowing red hot. “No I don’t!” she snapped. “I want you to put on some goddamn clothes and come to work. I haven‘t had breakfast yet and you promised Francesco a coffee!”

“Oh you’re such a party killer, Chiho,” he chided before turning back to continue brushing his face with the trained eye of someone who knew exactly how he wanted himself to look, as if she wasn’t standing there glaring at him. „You could choose something for me to wear in the meantime?“ he said as an afterthought while he switched to his buffing cloth.

Giving a frustrated  _ ugh _ , Chiho flipped open the closet. Quintus owned a mind-boggling amount of skinny jeans, all neatly folded and stacked by colour. For someone whose apartment was on the messy side and who couldn’t cook even the easiest meals, his clothes were extremely well organized. Overwhelmed by the choice, she grabbed the nearest pair, a racy, burgundy red number with contrasting embroidery stitches up the legs and a cream white, draped top made of some sort of silky material she figured was easy to slip on.

“Let’s go,” she ordered when she returned to the bathroom, throwing the pile of clothes down on the counter, surprising him while he was making bedroom eyes at himself in the mirror.

His glance flickered over the crumpled heap for a second. “Oh no no, these don’t go together well,” he said with a chuckle. “Look, the top’s too casual and it’s the wrong shade of white. There is a blue blouse with a long sash that-”

Anger surged inside Chiho, dawned red in front of her eyes. Her patience frizzled away in a flash.

“Adessar!” she hollered, puffing herself up to her impressive 154cm, “I don’t give one flying fuck if your shirt matches your pants! You will put on what I prepared, and we leave. Understood?”

His mandibles clamped close to his face and he deflated, rather like a courting bird that had just been rebuffed.

“Okay okay,“ he grumbled in reply, but he did put his cloth to the side and started putting on his clothes, taking his sweet time unhooking the eyelets one by one until Chiho stamped her foot and yelled at him to get his ass in gear in the most colourful ways possible, which he did. Barely making it to your shift was one thing, but disgruntling your quasi-girlfriend was another, and a way scarier prospect.

The next time, he vowed, he’d get up five minutes earlier.


	16. Illium Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated G
> 
> From a tumblr drabble prompt list: "In a room full of people, it feels like it's just us two."

Today’s shift had been incredibly boring.

Adessar and Miura were on the same team, but their friends Giuliani and T’Rani were scheduled to HQ guard duty, and the two demotivated asari beat officers assigned to patrol instead weren’t the most lively partners. Chatty as he was, Adessar did try talking to them, turning his charm on the way he always did, complimenting them, but they both would only give monosyllabic answers, so after a few tries he fell into step with Miura who was trailing behind, looking surly as always.

Today’s patrol took them through the shopping streets on the Presidium upper levels, from Stations 14 to 18 and back. Not a place with a lot of anticipated troubles. Idly listening to C-Sec’s background channel for possible emergencies, they watched the display windows. Every time they patrolled by the movie store, Miura would glance at the advert posters, and give a sigh, a small sound, amost inaudible yet full of longing. Adessar didn’t pay any attention at first, but after the third time, he realized why she did it, and that made his mandibles twitch in glee.

His voice was smooth as ever, laying on that chocolatey charm thick. “Tell me, Ms. Miura”, he purred, “it appears you have a penchant for Asari cop flicks? Why wasn’t I told?”

She looked up at him, eyes blazing. Apparently he’d hit a nerve. “No I don’t! Stop assuming things about me!”

With a chuckle, Adessar shook his head. “Listen, I’ve heard you sigh in different situations up to now, and I know that one. It’s the ‘I’m enamoured’ and it was clearly aimed at the ‘Illium Beat’ poster. You’re a shitty liar.”

“No I’m not! Asari movies suck, they’re always so pathetic and full of stupid corny romance, I hate them!”

Adessar’s mandibles twitched. He liked the movie, had seen it a few times already. He wasn’t one for overly cheesy films, preferring something with straight-on action instead of romance-flick-with-occasional-detective-work, but ‘Illium Beat’ had some good dialogue that had people of all possible species melt away. “Oh yeah? Well let me show you how much you hate them.”

In one fluid motion, he caught Miura by the hand, spinning her into his embrace (to his own astonishment, the move worked remarkably well), and, looking her deep in the eyes, his voice flanged and sensual, delivered the sentence, the one that was quoted by lovestruck teenagers all around the galaxy, that had krogan warlords swoon.

“Detective Emelia, my star in the sky, light in the dark, in a room full of people, it feels like it’s just us two.”

Miura’s eyes widened in shock. For a second, her countenance faltered, her features softened. “Why, how do you….” she stared at him, then scrambled to get out of his arms, her upper lip curled in distaste. “Stop quoting ‘Illium Beat’!”

Adessar’s mandibles twitched as he let her go. His subvocals buzzed with smugness. “Told you. Your secret’s safe with me. Surly Chiho Miura doesn’t like romantic asari movies, I get it.”

She ran one hand through her hair, then kicked him in the shin once, as if to prove her point. They were both wearing their armour on patrol, so it didn’t hurt in itself, but the heavy, steel-toed riot squad boots still managed to scuff Adessar’s shin guard. “Damn right I don’t, you wanna-be investigator!”

Their asari squadmates gave an impatient wave of their hands, urging them to continue their patrol, so the two fell into step behind them. Miura kept looking at the floor, while Adessar started idly playing with his omni-tool, the way he always did when he was bored. His brain was working. Maybe there was something he could do to lift Miura’s mood…. with a twitch of his mandibles, he opened his hacking programs, and set to work. It wasn’t going to be much, he knew, but if he judged Miura right, she’d love the surprise.

The message reached him when he was back home after his shift. He’d just stepped out of the bathroom after a thorough brushing when his omni-tool lit up.

HOLY CRAP QUINTUS I WAS GIFTED TWO ENTRIES TO THE PREMIERE OF ILLIUM BEAT 2!! WANNA COME?

Adessar shook his head, subvocals buzzing with amusement. She’d asked him out! On a movie date! Because he’d, well, changed a few parameters on a random giveaway. He made a mental note to use his hacking skills for good more often from now on.


	17. Injuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a Tumblr prompt list: "Grinding against the other"
> 
> Rated... M for... idk... suggestive content?

Not all missions can go well, and this one leaves more than one C-Sec officer in need of medical attention.

He tries playing over it after the debrief and first aid, shows off the medigel-soaked bandages covering the left side of his neck and waist with a glint in the one eye not swollen shut, as if the wounds were badges of honour instead of the outcome of a stupid decision on his side. But she notices him wince when he lifts his arm to get into his civvies. He‘s not the best at hiding discomfort.

And suddenly, these feelings bubble in her chest, so upsetting, the dread, the sudden realization she could have lost him. It’s overwhelming, makes the hair on her arms stand despite the warmth.

"Doesn‘t it make me look dashing?“ he asks, turning his head left and right in an attempt to impress her when he catches her staring at him.

Her reaction is immediate. “Oh shut up, Adessar!” she snarls, and then she‘s pressed against him, her breathing quick, jaw locked in defiance as always, and he knows she‘s fighting against the urge to cry.

For a second, he contemplates playing it down, or teasing her about it, but instead he lets her grind up against him, such a raw, immediate sensation, her hands roaming along his chest and back, again and again, like an outlet for everything she keeps bottled up inside. She’s not one for showing softness or vulnerability. Her warmth is there, so close, and the pliant resilience of her body he‘s grown used to in the last months. The way she rubs herself against him is confusing, so similar to when she wants him to sleep with her, though he suspects right now it has more to do with the immediate need of voicing the turmoil churning inside her. Yet no matter what prompted her move, his body reacts to it in the way it’s conditioned to, excitement stirring.

He exhales, bends down to rub his chin against the top of her head. It’s worth a shot in any case. “I wouldn’t mind you taking care of me later?” he says with a soft purr and a carefully modulated hint of suggestiveness in his subvocals. By now, she’s good at recognizing his hints.

A strange little sound dislodges itself from her throat, a mixture between a chuckle and a sob, but then she nods and jabs one finger at his pelvic plates, making him groan.

“Yeah I figured. I can, but you don’t deserve it, asshole.”

“Oh, I can live with that.”

She looks up, face scrunched in disapproval, before giving the healthy side of his waist a good squeeze. Yes, she knows exactly what gets him going.

“Fuck you, Adessar,” she hisses. 

But she helps him dress, and brings him home, and takes care of him, albeit gently as not to worsen his injuries. He could pay her back once he was healed.


End file.
